


claim you as my own

by bloomsoftly



Series: K I S S I N G [13]
Category: North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell | UK TV
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 08:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11687877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomsoftly/pseuds/bloomsoftly
Summary: Two times John and Margaret kiss: the first at the train station, and then again when Margaret tells him she loves him.





	1. the train station

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaTessitrice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaTessitrice/gifts).



> these were written from Tumblr kiss prompts.

For a moment, he believed he must still be sleeping. Surely he was in his bed in Milton, dreaming of her. Perhaps he had never gone to Helstone at all. But no, there was the yellow rose in his pocket, crinkled but vibrant.

And there she was, staring at him with a look of wonder. The conversation was stilted, for he could not help but stare back at her in adoration, knowing what he now knew of her brother, of his mistaken assumptions. And when she informed him that she had been to Milton, an unstoppable wave of hope swept through him, robbing his lungs of the necessary air to breathe. If it could possibly be what he thought—

She turned away to solicit assistance from another man, _Henry_. But he could not bear to let her go, and so he guided her to a nearby bench and asked her to explain. She did, halting and stilting and altogether overcome with nerves. He could not help but shift closer to her, for once unconcerned with propriety and reputation. His eyes were on hers as he realised that the woman he loved, the woman he adored more than anything else, had travelled back to him to offer salvation.

When she began to spin the tale that he would  be doing her a service—attempting to avoid offence, he assumed, or damage to his pride—he could not bear the distance any longer. His hand crept down to grip hers. Her skin was soft and smooth under his, and he could not resist brushing his thumb across her knuckles once, twice, three times. And then her hands brought his to her mouth, placing a reverent kiss against his skin, and he was lost.

Slowly, cupping her cheek in his hand as if she were span of the finest glass, John set his mouth to hers. It was a gentle kiss, one that demonstrated his love and restraint. His lips trembled against hers; he could scarcely believe that it was happening. For months he had dreamt of her lips on his, and now he realised that his hopes and dreams never could have matched the glory of this kiss. Her lips were soft and sweet against his, her breath shuddering against his mouth, and he never wished to let her go. But he must, at the very least to ensure that she was equally swept up in the storm of feeling.

“I apologise,” he whispered against her mouth, in fear that his ardor had frightened her. “Are you—”

“London train about to depart,” the station master called, cutting him off. “London train is about to depart.”

Margaret stood without a word, and he was forced to watch her walk away from him yet again. This time, he found he did not have the strength to watch as the train bore her away, to London, to the south. His heart in pieces, the weight heavy in his chest, he turned away, to the train that would carry him in the opposite direction. Everything that had seemed bright and hopeful only moments before lay in ruins, and he was faced with the prospect of returning to Milton in despair.

But then he caught her reflection in the glass window, and his heart beat a battered rhythm in his chest. He feared once again that he was dreaming, but seized the last of his courage and turned to face the truth. And there she was. A smile overtook his face as he realized she had only left to get her bag, and he could not help but ask, “Coming home with me?” He felt the need to speak the words aloud, to make it real.

She said nothing, but offered him the bag she still held in her hands. He took it, allowing her to precede him into the compartment. Once they settled, sat side by side, she reached for him gently, nervously. John was happy to oblige, and brought his lips down to meet hers. There was less nervousness on his part, less restraint. His Margaret had seen everything he felt for her, had felt it in his mouth on hers, and still had chosen him. The knowledge raised his spirits, buoying him with such happiness he felt it must radiate from his very skin.

It dawned on him, now that they were safely ensconced in his compartment on the train headed north—toward Milton, toward their future together—that he needn’t agonise any longer. There was no need to entreat Margaret to look back at him. This time, his love—his sweet Margaret—sat at his side. No longer leaving him behind.

The thought sent happiness fluttering through him, and he could not remove his gaze from the woman who had set his heart aflame so many months ago. And Margaret battled her reserved nature in return, and gazed upon him fully. But it was not enough to look. Their lips met again.

The outside world would intrude soon enough, he reckoned. Once they returned to Milton, there was so much to be done. But at the moment all he wished to do was bask in her presence, and breathe her in. And so he did.


	2. the wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaret finally tells John she loves him.

It slipped her mind during the ceremony, and when it came time for the wedding breakfast she and John were quite occupied with welcoming their guests. There was no time to whisper sweet nothings into his ear, and she was not certain she would wish to tell him in such a manner anyway.

She may not have always been of one mind on what exactly it was that John Thornton deserved, but she knew now that she adored him. She adored the secret smile in his eyes, always present when he gazed upon her.

Margaret appreciated his love and respect for his mother, and his recognition of all that she had sacrificed for him. She admired his devotion to the mill, even when it claimed his time at all hours of day and night. And she was tickled by the strange, reciprocal respect he seemed to have developed with Higgins and the other millworkers.

But a wedding breakfast—theirs, no less—was no place to shower her new husband with affection and words of adoration. And so Margaret shoved her feelings down, and attempted to focus on the celebration instead. It was in their honor, after all.  After the last of their guests had been greeted and their well-wishes had been received, John held Margaret back with a gentle hand on her elbow. “Margaret,” he muttered lowly, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow, “what is the matter?”

She looked up at him in surprise. His eyes were warm and heavy on hers, as they had been since he’d caught sight of her at the train platform, now several weeks past. Love shone clearly in his expression, and she envied him his easy ability to demonstrate it. “Nothing,” she promised, smiling up at him.

The rest of the wedding breakfast passed in a blur. All Margaret could focus on was the happiness that transformed John’s face, the grace of his hands as he ate, and the smile that threatened to overtake him, if only he’d let it. And then it was over, and they were in John’s bedroom. Their bedroom.

They stood silently for a moment, contemplating each other and the knowledge of what must happen next. She was nervous, of course, as all brides were on her wedding night. But that was not what prompted her to place a firm hand on his chest, preventing him from coming any closer. At John’s look of concern, she whispered, “Wait.”

He looked down at her expectantly, bowing to her wishes readily, as always, and her heart thumped with love. Words of love stuttered and halted in her breast, and she could not bring herself to say them, but she summoned enough courage to rise to the balls of her feet and feather a light kiss across his jaw. “You make me very happy, Mr. Thornton.”

His breath caught in his chest; she could feel it from where her hand braced against him, as a stabilising force to maintain her balance. He waited until she had returned to her usual height to answer. With bright and happy eyes, he brushed a feather-light finger across her brow and around her cheekbone and said, “You are everything I ever wanted and more, Mrs. Thornton.”

And suddenly she was brave. His bright affection, never hidden or disguised from her, gave her the necessary courage. With a cautious hand at the back of his neck, she brought his head down to hers at the same time as she rose to her toes. Pressing a gentle, shuddering kiss to his mouth, she murmured, “I love you.”

His reaction was immediate and immensely satisfying. His hands wrapped around her waist immediately, catching on the delicate fabric of her wedding gown, and he pulled her tightly against him. John’s mouth slanted across hers, ardent and hungry, and she opened her lips against his. It was nothing like the kiss at the train station—that had been tender and cautious as they explored the newly-recognized affection between them. This was demanding and sure, and expression of love requited and happiness found. It was one of the best moments of her life.

The need for air became too great, and they pulled away. But her hand stayed on the back of his neck, keeping him with her. His hands moved from her waist to the sides of her face and he pressed his forehead against hers, breathing her in. They stood in silence for a long moment until he pleaded, “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Margaret affirmed, eyes still closed. His lips brushed against hers gently, and she repeated, “I love you.”

His breath shuddered against her mouth. “I love you, too.” It was all she needed to hear.


End file.
